


Touched me once, left a mark forever

by Palpalou



Category: The Terror (TV 2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Daemons, Canon Bad Ending, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-05
Updated: 2020-02-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:08:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22574557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Palpalou/pseuds/Palpalou
Summary: Bridgens has left the tent.
Relationships: Captain Francis Crozier & Commander James Fitzjames, Captain Francis Crozier/Commander James Fitzjames
Comments: 12
Kudos: 35





	Touched me once, left a mark forever

Bridgens had left the tent.

Physemia was coiled in the hollow at James’ shoulder. She still _looked_ healthy, her white coat still shiny and soft, her button-like snout and tiny paws untouched by chilblains, but her eyes were glassy and Francis knew she had trouble walking without stumbling. Moira thought she might have gone blind even days ago.

Still, her diminutive claws were dug firmly in James’ soiled shirt and she was moving her head back and forth in a petting motion against his collarbone. Francis hoped James felt the pressure and was soothed.

He couldn’t move at all anymore. Even his hand in Francis’ was cold and toneless as a corpse. Moira was on the ground, crouching to fit under the low camp bed, as close to Physemia as she could be.

He didn’t have to look at her to know the fur along her scruff was up, that her pupils were ringed with white. She loathed what they were about to do, their bond fraught with her disgust and despair. But did they have a choice? Francis could have borne seeing James die slowly and painfully. He would have borne it with a smile on his face if that would have made this man who was closer than a brother feel even a modicum of comfort. But he would not be so selfish as to refuse James when he asked for an end to his suffering.

With his right hand, he brought the glass bottle up to James’ mouth. James was being so calm, but he couldn’t swallow. So Francis set the bottle back down and used his index finger and thumb to ease the poison down James’ throat. Even here, so close to the core of his body, James's flesh was no more than lukewarm.

His eyes were large and very dark, lambent with what might have been the light from the midnight sun coming in from the opening of the tent or what might have been the last drops of his life, all concentrated in his gaze, and in Physemia.

She was shivering, maybe crying, but Francis could only see it from his peripheral vision, because James was looking at him and Francis wouldn’t look away.

His leg felt cold where he wished his daemon would press against it in comfort but he understood why Moira couldn’t. Their daemons used to sleep curled into each other even before James and he grew weak or brave enough to do the same. She couldn’t be close to Physemia out of respect for James, but she couldn’t be any farther away from her than she had to be either.

There was a bit of poison running down the side of James’ face so he used his handkerchief to wipe it away. James was drinking him in with his eyes.

Francis should have said words of comfort but grief was like a stone in his throat. He was as incapable of speech as James now. He hoped his expression showed what he couldn’t say.

They waited together. James’ death would come in increments, Bridgens had explained. He would fall asleep before passing.

Already his breath had become nearly imperceptible, although his eyes were still open.

“James, James” Physemia slurred.

There was movement then, and the lightest, softest touch he had ever felt against Francis’ hand. Physemia had left her place on James’ breast to press herself awkwardly against Francis’ bare wrist, right below the thumb, at the place where their hands were linked. She was so slight he could barely feel her, but she was warm. She was James’ brave, lovely soul, and she would be gone soon.

When Moira crawled out – she was crying –, stretching her neck so she could lick at James’ fingers, a circuit closed between them forever – and yet so late. Francis felt twin grips of joy and grief clench around his heart for one beat, two. A tear rolled down his cheek and baptised their joining.

Physemia’s ear twitched, she shivered once, and then she was gone and so was James; he had died watching Francis.

**Author's Note:**

> *I used an ancient greek-to-english dictionary to give the daemons meaningful yet low-effort name. For James' I settled for vanity (φύσημα), and for Francis I went looking for omen (regarding his role as a Cassandra), which I didn't find, then fate, which is μοῖρα aka : moîra (!!!). Like... >->  
> **James' daemon as a mink and Francis' as an arctic fox lifted from drawsaurus : https://drawsaurus.tumblr.com/post/186745439026


End file.
